


Standing Strong

by lanri



Series: Unseen [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Blindness, Gen, Pre-Series, Unseen 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanri/pseuds/lanri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-blinding. Sam’s going to help out on the hunts, that way he won’t be worthless anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing Strong

Dad had been avoiding him for months, now. So when Sam heard the heavy sound of his father dropping into the chair opposite, he flinched slightly.

“Sam.”

“Sir?” Sam pressed his hands under his thighs.

“You are proficient with Braille, yes?”

Sam had no way of reading his father’s voice. It used to be that he could always get a clue from John’s expression, but now . . . well, his dad wasn’t exactly loquacious, unlike Dean.

“I still make mistakes,” Sam hedged.

There was a pause, and Sam desperately wished he knew whether to look his most fierce or his most subdued.

“I need you to pull your weights during these hunts, Sam. Obviously you can’t handle the main bulk of research, but if you copy over everything in my journal, you can help in that way. Also, memorizing exorcisms, learning symbols by hand, all of that.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Yessir. Um, how will I copy the journal?”

“Dean or I will read it aloud to you. Understood?”

Sam nodded jerkily, only able to relax once John had moved away. He heard his dad settle on one of the beds and turn on the TV—too loud, Dean never turned it so loud—and fidgeted, straightening his notes from class and brushing his fingers over the Braille. Dad wanted him hunting again. Sam’s first thought was ‘what would Dean say’ but his second was ‘how was he going to mess this up.’ The emotion coiling in his stomach was a mix of anticipation and fear.

“Dad,” Sam tried hesitantly. “You, uh . . . Could you say an exorcism for me?”

There was a pause that had Sam’s flesh crawling.

“Sure, Sam.”

Sam let the familiar words of Latin wash over him, and something clicked back into place between him and his father that hadn’t for years.

* * *

“What? No!”

“Dean, it’s no big deal. I can do this.”

“Yeah, well, I say no.”

Sam crossed his arms and huffed. “What, you think I’m not strong enough?”

He felt Dean’s weight sink down onto the bed beside him. “Sam, you know I don’t think that. But I don’t want you to be put . . . be put in the middle of that.”

“I won’t even be in the middle. I’m the lookout. Or hearout. Whatever.”

He got a quiet laugh out of Dean for that. “You’re such a moron.”

Sam fisted the comforter and bit his lip. “Dean, I have to do this.”

“No, you don’t. This is just asking for trouble, Sam,” Dean returned.

Sam gestured widely, accidentally clipping Dean’s . . . well, it felt like his shoulder or arm. “What we’ve always done asks for trouble. I’m the one who’s always complained, what’s with your change in tune?”

“I would think that’d be pretty obvious, Sammy.”

Sam sighed, his forehead scrunching up in distress.

“Don’t do that, Sammy. Next thing you know, your face’ll be frozen that way.” Sam felt Dean’s fingers poke at his face, and swatted at him so that Dean wouldn’t see his smile.

“Dean, I can do this, okay? You gotta let me.”

“Why your change in tune, with hunting?” Dean threw his question back at him.

Sam pulled back slightly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, it kinda does, kiddo.”

Sam scowled at the nickname. “I’ve got a lot to make up for, and I don’t want to be useless. Okay? Happy?”

Dean was silent for a long moment. “Sammy, you’re not useless.” Sam could sense Dean’s hand hovering uncertainly over his head and held back a sigh, sitting up straighter so that his brother’s hand was on his hair. Dean would never really say aloud that Sam was useless, even though Sam knew it was true, so he’d just have to soften his brother up in a different way.

“I want to do this, Dean. Can’t you trust me?” It was the plea of a pathetic little brother, but Sam used it to good effect.

Dean’s fingers tangled up in Sam’s hair. “Fine, but so you know, I am saying this is a bad idea.”

“Mmm, deal,” Sam pushed slightly into Dean’s hand, like a cat, and felt Dean’s smile.

“I shoulda known when I asked for a brother I was getting a puppy instead. Then I might’ve picked a husky,” he laughed, but continued to massage Sam’s scalp in the way he liked.

“Uh huh.” Sam decided to not say aloud that he knew whenever they were close, Dean was way easier to convince. That would mean Dean was being girly, and they couldn’t have that. “Don’t stop and I promise you can have first shower.”

“Bitch.”

Sam forewent the traditional response and snuggled closer instead, ignoring his own writhing insides at the presence of the hunt, looming soon, so soon. He could do this. He really could.

* * *

It was eerily similar to the last time they had hunted. The Hunt. Sam’s sweaty hands kept a grip on the walkie-talkie.

Dean’s voice crackled through the radio. “How’s it on your end, Sammy?”

Sam had to clear his throat before he could speak. “All clear. Not a sound.”

“We’re at the nest, now. Cleaning out the offspring and the parents, but no sign of the kids.”

“Which tunnel did you go down?” Sam asked worriedly. “The tide’s gonna be coming in, soon.”

The walkie crackled before Dean’s voice cut through. “Went down the left one.”

Sam crept forward. “Hold on.” He listened, carefully. “I can hear something.”

“Wait for us, Sammy,” Dean commanded sharply.

“There’s no time, Dean.” Sam made up his mind, clipping the walkie talkie onto his belt and re-gripping his cane. “I’m going down the one on the right. If they aren’t down here, check the left tunnel.”

Some pretty bad curse words came over the radio frequency, but Sam heard the deeper bass of his father’s voice stopping Dean, allowing Sam to concentrate on the rough feel of the cave walls under his fingertips. The sea-side caves sloped downward, confirming Sam’s suspicion that when the basilisks had dragged the children into a holding room, they did it to avoid spoiling the kill for their babies. A waterlogged corpse was probably easier to chew on for baby basilisks.

“Hello?” he called. The passage was widening.

“Help!” The voice was high and sharp.

Suddenly there was no ground under his feet, and Sam fell with a splash into surprisingly deep water. He kept his grip on his cane, floundering with the other arm until he broke the surface.

The edge was just . . . there. Sam pulled himself halfway up, ignoring the scratches from the rough rock.

“What’s wrong with you? Help us!”

“Where are you?” Sam tried.

“Right here!” The kids didn’t sound too much younger than Sam.

“I’m blind, okay? I need you to tell me exactly where you are,” Sam returned.

“Figures, we’d get saved by a blind kid,” a deeper voice muttered, and Sam ignored the stinging sensation in his eyes. That was just from the salt water.

“There’s four of us. We’re tied up along the edge. And the water’s rising.”

Sam mentally did a double-take. “How did the basilisk tie you up?”

“The rock. It did something to it so that it covered our hands,” the older one said.

That made sense, but made Sam’s position that much more difficult. “Right.” He pulled out his knife thoughtfully.

The deeper voice barked out, “whoa, kid, what do you think you’re doing with that?”

Sam ignored him and swam for the voice, carefully keeping his hand outstretched until it hit a solid chest.

“Sorry,” he muttered perfunctorily. The guy was talking loudly and annoyingly, but Sam reached along his arm until he reached the rock covering his hands. “Hold still,” Sam said.

“Wait, no—”

He slammed the hilt of his knife down on the rock. To his relief, it crumbled at the blow. The guy wrenched his hand free and immediately snatched the knife from Sam.

“Could you get the others?” Sam asked.

“Seriously kid, what are you even doing down here?” the guy said.

Sam shivered in the cold water. “Wish I knew.”

* * *

“Sammy, never again.” Dean paced back and forth in front of Sam.

“I saved them though,” Sam argued.

“Doesn’t matter. You were nearly hypothermic.” Dean shuddered with the memory of hugging Sam’s cold body close. If it hadn’t been for Sam’s violent shaking, Dean knew it would’ve felt like he was holding a dead body.

“I saved them, though,” he said petulantly.

Dean took a deep breath. “I know you did, okay? You were awesome.”

Sam seemed to take a little pleasure from that, but his face quickly twisted into a frown. “I’m sensing a ‘but.’”

“You’re a butt.”

“Dean.”

“Sammy.” Dean sighed. “I get it, you want to help people. And that’s great, but it’s too much of a risk.”

Sam seemed to wilt. “I just wanted to help.”

“Yeah kiddo, I know.” Dean fumbled for words. “You help by being here.”

If Sam could’ve rolled his eyes, Dean knew he would’ve. “Sure, Dean.”

“I mean it. What would I do without my geek sidekick?”

“Oh yeah? Who’s the one who described the whole first part of the Lord of the Rings movie without even looking at it?” Sam taunted.

Dean was astonished. “How’d you know I didn’t look at it?”

“You were too busy reading that book.”

Dean swallowed. “What book?”

“The new one you keep sneaking out whenever Dad’s not around and you think I’m distracted,” Sam said smugly.

“Such a little freak,” Dean grumbled. “Fine, I’m a geek, you happy?”

“What’s the book?”

“None of your business.”

“I’ll tell Dad,” Sam said in a sing-song voice.

Dean could pretty much feel his ears turning red. “It’s a help book, okay?”

Sam’s smirk grew even bigger. “How to pick up girls? Thought you had that one down, dude.”

“It’s how to help you, okay? Just leave it, Sam.”

Sam froze. “Me?”

“Yeah, doofus, you. Didn’t need your head getting any bigger.”

Sam’s smile was a little shaky. “What, can’t handle me on your own?”

“Oh shut up. I’m not Superman, after all.” Dean decided it was officially time for the conversation topic to change, and tackled Sam. “And I can still pin you, super-strength not needed.”

Sam shrieked like a little girl—perfect, more ammunition to make fun of him later—and struggled against Dean until they were both sweaty and out of breath.

“Jerk,” Sam gasped.

“Bitch,” Dean returned, just glad he had dodged the bullet. For now.


End file.
